


Redshift

by penlex



Series: Mick Rory Appreciation Porn [1]
Category: DCU, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Aftercare, Come Eating, Edgeplay, Fire Fleshing, Fire play, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Subspace, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8727124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penlex/pseuds/penlex
Summary: Mick wants to play with fire, and also Leonard. He gets to do both at the same time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Researching how fireplay is done safely was not as easy or as interesting as I thought it would be. But anyway. I feel obligated to say: Don't Do This At Home Kids.

Len is laying over a damp towel on the tile floor of their shared bathroom, completely ass naked, his head pillowed on his crossed arms, freshly showered. Little droplets of water glitter in his buzzed hair, almost like diamonds. Or ice. He's started going grey in places, salt and pepper but the texture of his hair causes the new color to show up in swirls instead of flecks. There are freckles and scars scattered over his shoulders, all that Mick has seen before but no less nice to look at for it. The slope of his spine is soft and smooth, the same way he always feels under Mick's hands.

"God, you're beautiful," Mick says, not bothering to regulate his tone the way Len usually likes to. He doesn't care if people know if he's being honest or not, and especially not now, when he's being honest as honest can be. Len huffs a laugh but otherwise doesn't respond. He stopped telling Mick to get a grip years ago, and has had his own pretty names for Mick for a while now too.

"I'm not on fire yet," he argues, his voice half flirty and half nervous.

"Yet," Mick repeats in a low growl, and he knows that even though Len isn't looking at him, and hasn't looked since he laid down, he can tell how turned on Mick is just at the idea that Len is willing to let him do this. Especially considering past fire-related lapses, as evidenced by Mick's own bared arms. Len's shoulders tighten a little at the reminder from outside himself, and Mick runs a dry comforting hand down his back. "Breathe slow and deep," he instructs, and Len obeys him immediately.

"How much will it hurt?" he asks quietly, his voice still tense even though his body has already relaxed again. They've gone over this a couple times before, as part of deciding to do this, but Mick gets it that Len is usually very against anything hot, up to and including showers and the weather. So Mick answers anyway.

"Shouldn't hurt bad. If it hurts bad we put it out and stop."

"On a scale of one to ten?" That's a new question. Mick's stomach swoops unpleasantly, his arousal cooling. He rubs his hand down his own thigh, letting the friction from his pants (100% cotton, tight, new) catch soothingly on his calluses and scars. Meets the lids of Len's closed eyes as he thinks.

"We can still do the ice thing if you don't wanna do this, Lenny," he finally reassures.

"I want to, Mick," Len drawls, speaking slower with impatience, and he opens one eye for a second to glare weakly. "Show me what all your damn hype is about." It's Mick's turn to snort out a rough laugh, feeling relieved.

"Three 'n a half," he says. Len's eyebrows shoot up and he blurts, "Really?"

"I said 'not bad,'" Mick grumbles. Granted, he's low-balling it a little to account for Len's too-high tolerance, but still. "Gonna light you up, not burn you." He rubs his hand down Len's back again, and repeats, "Breathe slow and deep. If it gets above five that's bad and I need to know about it. Got it?"

"Got it, boss," Len mimics with a soft smirk, and Mick flicks his ear, calls him a brat. Len just moves in what might have been a shrug if he were in a different position, wearing a real smile now. Mick has started getting excited again, his body turning out to be much quicker on the uptake than his mind. He's not sure what to do, where to start, even as liquid heat pools between his legs (and also his eyes, and his throat feels a little tight, but that doesn't matter right now).

"You're so beautiful," he says again. This time Len stays silent, waiting. Mick reaches for his partner with both hands, rubs them dry and firm across Len's shoulders and neck, down his back some more. Len makes a noise almost like a purr, melts further into the towel below him, and Mick feels just about the same. He loves to touch Len, any way Len lets him, loves the feeling of soft warm skin under his rougher hands, the little sunspots of texture when he passes over a scar, the way he can move so slow and Len lets him do what he wants. It makes Mick feel damn good. Sure. Strong. Right.

When the sensuality has built up, making the air warm and heavy with tension, when Len is sighing in limp-limbed comfort and pleasure and Mick is burning up inside with wanting it, he finally takes his hands off of Len's body and reaches instead for the liter can of naphtha he bought special for this yesterday. The can makes a semi-hollow clank as Mick sets it down again closer to him, and Len's breathing becomes more purposefully deep, but he doesn't start tensing up again so Mick doesn't mention it. On top of the naphtha is a simple nylon bristled brush so that Mick can easily control the volume of fluid that gets on Len's skin, and also so that he can put a pretty design on him if he feels like it.

Mick takes a deep breath when he opens the can, taking in the chemical scent. It's nowhere near as good as kindling or phosphorous, but it's still an accelerant like any other and it ramps up the anticipation that much further. Mick's gut tightens excitedly, and his cock jumps inside his pants. If only he wasn't so hairy down there he'd take them off and give himself some more space, some fresh air. Mick watches Len notice the lighter fluid smell, his nose wrinkling in distaste. Prissy. But he also shifts his hips restlessly, maybe or maybe not trying to be discreet about it, and Mick knows he's hard too. Good.

"Ready?" he doubles checks, and waits for Len's slow nod before dipping his brush into the can. He starts it off simple, just a small ex shape underneath Len's left shoulderblade. They both start breathing a little faster (before Len gets himself right back under control) when the lighter clicks. Mick brings it in close enough to ignite the gas, careful not to actually touch the warming metal to Len's skin. The ex flashes bright orange and is gone.

Len's reaction is slightly delayed, which is normal. When that bare second for his nerves to process what happened is over, he jerks forward against the floor. All the air in him rushes out, dragging a breathless " _Hah!_ " out with it, and his eyes open to blink sightlessly before he closes them again and gasps all that air back in. Mick moans quietly, closed-mouthed.

"Ow," Len says when he's steady again. Mick feels his throat rumble in another helplessly restrained groan and leans forward to kiss and lick at the back of Len's neck. Len tilts his head forward to press himself up into Mick's lips.

"Scale of one to ten?" Mick asks, keeping his mouth where it is and enjoying the feeling of his lips dragging along Len's vulnerable skin, and Len shivers in response before answering.

"Solid two."

"Good," says Mick, scrapes his teeth against Len's nape, and then sits up to dip his brush again.

Mick puts another ex on Len's other shoulder, to keep things symmetrical because Len will probably appreciate that. He bites back another groan when Len's body jerks like it did before, trying to stay level headed. Next, he draws a circle at the center of Len's spine. It's bigger than the exes, just big enough that Len's reaction starts happening before it's all the way out. He yelps and his shoulders curl up and in, and then the fire is gone and he's sighing, melting, rolling his hips _down_.

" _Jesus_ , Lenny," Mick growls and Len just hums and waits for the next one, _fuck_.

"Longer?" Mick asks, and Len hums again in permission. So Mick draws one straight line all the way down Len's spine, from between his shoulderblades down to the small of his back. He lights it from the top and watches avidly as the orange flame zips its way toward Len's waist. Len's body rolls with it, reacting bit by bit in its wake. He jerks forward again, gasps, like before, but this light is long enough that it's still going when Len's initial reaction is done. As the heat reaches the area just past Len's ribs he whines sharply, and as the flame is just winking out he whimpers, " _Mick...!_ " Mick groans in response, a heavy rumble from deep in his chest, and presses the heal of his free hand hard against his cock. It's a relief and a punishment at once; he's frustrated that he can't stay quiet and _listen_. He can't believe the noises Len is making for him. Len doesn't _whimper_ unless Mick has been playing with his ass forever and he's been pushed too far past impatience into desperation to get snarky about being toyed with. And that's good, don't get Mick wrong, divine even. But this is _so_ much better.

Mick lights up a heart on one of Len's lovehandles, and Len gasps. Mick ignites a swirl and a squiggle on each set of ribs, and Len's voice drops a register when he groans deeply and rolls his hips. Mick puts the point of a triangle nearly at the line of Len's hair, and then just as close to his tailbone, and Len yelps at both. Soon enough Len is just panting and gasping out quick, helpless whines from the back of his throat, his voice reedy and broken, not jerking at each light anymore but instead constantly shuddering. Mick thinks he might have bitten his own lip raw from trying to keep his mouth shut and enjoy the soundtrack, and his eyes are starting to feel dry because he probably hasn't been blinking enough, unwilling to miss even a fraction of a second of Len lying still and letting Mick put fire all over his naked, vulnerable, gorgeous skin.

Eventually, Len whimpers, "...Mickey?" in a voice high and small enough to almost be called a squeak.

"Yeah?" Mick doesn't wait before lights another line of fire, and his own voice is so raspy and rough if he didn't know any better he'd think he'd swallowed some of it. Len moans weakly at the fresh stripe of heat, just breathes for a second before he can speak again.

"Can I come?" he asks, and Mick has to squeeze his eyes shut and growl, head tilted back and free hand tight on himself through his pants. Len has _never_ asked permission before, just waiting for Mick to get him of or else impatiently doing it himself. Mick couldn't tell him no if both of their lives depended on it.

"One more," he says instead. "Then I'll take care of you, 'kay?"

"'Kay," Len starts to say before Mick lights up the biggest design yet, careful not to make it too complicated so that the naphtha doesn't all evaporate before it can be ignited. Len cries out, loud and raw, as the gas burns off of him. Mick bites down on his tongue and holds himself tighter, burning up inside watching as Len unconsciously moves away from, and then into the heat.

Mick wants to just toss his tools aside so he can get his hands on Len's body as soon as possible, but he forces his shaking hands to put the cap back on the naphtha first instead. The nylon brush goes into the sink and then Mick wipes off his hands on the extra damp towel crumpled up on the floor next to him. He pats Len's back down with it to, both to make sure there's no left over accelerant and to cool any lingering warmth. Then he rolls Len over onto his back, fully prepared and more than a little excited to lay himself down between Len's legs and rub them off on each other, only to find that Len doesn't need his help after all. A pearly string of come connects the puddle on Len's stomach to the one on the towel where he was laying. He's starting to go soft, but still panting, arching up, needy, anywhere Mick touches him.

" _Jesus_ , Lenny," Mick says again, and this time Len whimpers. Mick kisses him, enjoys how Len's reaction time is slowed enough with pleasure that he can't quite kiss back and just opens his mouth to take it. Mick eats up his gasps and gives him back groans of his own. He pulls out his neglected cock and lays himself down over Len like he'd planed, wrapping a hand around himself in between them and jerking off rough but not too fast.

"God, you're beautiful," Mick mutters into Len's slack, wet mouth; it's even truer now than ever. " _Fuck_ , you lit up so pretty for me, Lenny." He bites hard into Len's shoulder, and growls, deep and rough against his throat, as his comes across Len's soft belly, his own mess mixing up with what's already there. When Mick draws back, Len is still breathing hard and blinking dazedly up at the ceiling. Mick knows all about that, from both sides of the metaphorical paddle, so he just keeps Lenny warm with his body the way he knows Len prefers it. He decides on a whim to clean Len up with his mouth because that way he doesn't have to get up to get a clean towel. When all the come is licked up and Len is only wet with Mick's spit, Mick kisses his way back up Len's perfect body. He scoops Len's hands up in his own on his way, sliding his fingers in between Len's thinner ones and bringing both of their arms up to stretch above their heads, the back of Len's palms pressing into the cool floor beyond the safety towel. Len sighs at him and eventually starts moving around again, brushing a chaste kiss along Mick's jaw.

"How do you feel?" Mick murmurs since it seems like Lenny's grounded again. Len takes a deeper breath, taking stock of himself in his methodical way no doubt.

"Uncomfortable," he finally decides. Mick's heart skips a beat and he starts to sit up, intent on looking Lenny over for any kind of injury or body language that he somehow missed, but Len tightens his fingers and lifts one leg so that the vee of his hips is twice as cozy as it already was.

"Why?" Mick demands worriedly, a little anxious that Len apparently doesn't want him to look for himself, before he notices Len's lazy and mischievous smile.

"My world view is shifting," Len explains, cheeky as always despite how his speech is slurred with drowsiness and endorphins. "Fire good. 'S'not right." There's a beat while Mick processes that, and then Mick kisses his pain in the ass partner silly, and laughs and laughs and laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> look me up on [tumblr](http://redblooded-disadvantage.tumblr.com/) for stale meta n fresh memes


End file.
